


Mad at your family? Lonely at Thanksgiving?

by vespercain



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Human AU, Humanstuck, Parties, Thanksgiving, famous meenah au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vespercain/pseuds/vespercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meenah and her Mother don't tend to see eye to eye, and after a certain argument about her love life, Meenah decides to invite some...special to Thanksgiving. Based on http://www.buzzfeed.com/ryanhatesthis/this-dude-looks-like-he-smells-like-a-tire-fire#.spJk11JBo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You should have just stayed at College

**Meenah**

Your name is Meenah Peixes, you've been sat on this plane for 5 minutes, and the man next to you has already asked you for a selfie.

You'd been asked for one in the airport as well, but managed to say that you were late for your plane and had to hurry along. You weren't ready to get involved in a fifteen-year-olds selfie, but with the man in his mid-twenties beside you, you had no other excuse. You let him take the selfie and watch quietly as he posts it on Instagram with the caption: Look who I met. He doesn't bother defending you when one of his friends claim that you're, "just another fame whore looking for fans," and you snigger under your breath. He looks at you, and quickly leans away so you can't see his screen.

You huff, looking back to your own laptop and waiting for the plane to set off. It does, at 21:07, and you sigh, lifting your foot up onto your complimentary footrest. You already wish you'd just stayed in your college dorm for Thanksgiving. It's not like it's that weird. You could've eaten turkey animals for dinner, and worked on your essays, and you wouldn't have had to worry about your Mother, or the rest of the guests, or the questions you were going to be asked. But instead, your Mother had called you the day before and said she'd booked your plane tickets, and suddenly there was no escape. She'd blackmailed you with the whole, "no more money for college," thing, and even though you're trying to get yourself financially stable, you're far from being able to pay for college. So now you're sat on a comfortable aeroplane chair, watching pointless action movies, and you're only stopping once to go to the bar and order cherryade.

#

No one asks you for a selfie or an autograph when you get off the plane, and you're glad because its quarter past three and you have to stumble around the front of the airport for about twenty minutes before your cab finally arrives and you pile yourself into the back, with all your shit, and tell him where to go.

It's 4 o'clock when you're finally fumbling with your keys, fighting back sleep and rubbing at your eyes. You'd almost fallen asleep in the taxi, and you blame the driver for playing soothing music all the way here. When you'd got here he hadn't even offered to help get your bags out of the car and through your gate- not that you would have accepted his offer if he had done, but still.

A few seconds of pointless fumbling later and you feel the door begin to open and you step back, accepting your fate as your Mother's form comes into view. "Hello, Meenah," your Mother says, wiping day old make-up from under her eyes.

"Are you aware of the time?" She is standing before you in her silky pink nightgown, with fluffy slippers adorning her feet and her hair up in rollers.

"'Bout four thirty, the time I told ya I'd be here," you say as you heave your bags up into your arms and push your way into the house.

Your Mother makes a slight attempt to get out of your way- enough to say she moved, but not enough to make manoeuvring any easier for you.

She pauses for a moment to watch you struggle before saying, "It's been so long since I've seen you, how've you been?"

You stagger into the hallway and drop all your bags down onto the polished wooden floor. "Fine," you reply, stripping your jacket off your shoulders and flinging it over the banister.

You hear your Mother tut and you ignore her. "How is college?"

You shrug, leaning back onto your suitcase to look at her. "It's alright, same old same old," you say with a small smirk. You know there is no point in going into any detail, if there was you'd tell her about your deadlines and your project, but you're saving those words for your little sister- who you won't actually end up seeing until Thanksgiving, but when you do it's going to be one hell of a catch up.

You turn, getting ready to pick up your bags and make a move up to your bedroom.

"We need to have a talk about your love life," your mother says then, making you stop in the process of picking your backpack up.

You let it drop off your shoulder and turn around to face her. "What? Really? You wanna talk 'bout this right now?" you ask, staring at her.

She gives you a pointed look. "How is that boy of yours?...Karkat?"

You don't even know how she knows about that, but you suppose you should have expected the press to have said something.

You sigh, looking from her to your bags on the floor, "Can't this wait till the morn-?"

"Answer the question!" she snaps, and you wince.

"I don't know!" you say quickly, and then, "I haven't seen him since we broke up."

Your Mother sighs, "You should invite him to Thanksgiving."

"We broke up," is all you say, before adding, "Why do you care anyway, I didn’t think he was the type that you would have approved of."

Your Mother gives you a harsh look, sneering at you slightly as she says, "Well he's better than the trouble you've been getting yourself into more recently."

You narrow your eyes, "What makes you think I've been getting into trouble?" you ask, accusingly.

"You know what the papers have been saying about you."

"I don't keep up with what they say."

"Well, you should," she says, huffing her chest out slightly. You raise your eyebrow slightly. "They're not calling you a slut for no reason."

She looks at you like you're a disgrace, and you look away like you agree. There is a moment of silence before she makes her way towards. She subtly pins you into the corner of the hall, and you flinch away as she reaches for your arm. "Meenah, I just want to help you," she says as she takes hold, squeezing a little too tight. "I don’t want you to get a bad reputation."

You lift two of your bags at once onto your shoulder with your free arm. "I can sleep with whoever I want," is all you say, not making eye contact with her and trying to ignore now her grip tightens around your arm.

"Meenah…" Her voice is slow, and you look up to meet her gaze. In her eyes is a dangerous warning, and you swallow hard. She leans in close to your face, her grip around your arm only getting more painful. "Do you want to disgrace this family? Do you not care how much it disgraces me when it's all over the internet who you've recently banged?" You say nothing, and she bares her teeth in your face. "You're going to get your act together- do you understand?" Your back is against the wall and you're clinging to your bags for dear life. "No more sleeping around. You will not disgrace this name any longer, you got that?"

You can do nothing but nod, and she spits out a, "Good," into your face, and you push her away, managing to shake her grip off your arm.

"I'm going upstairs," you tell her, your voice shaking slightly as you escape the small space between your Mother and the wall.

You walk up the stairs, scared to turn around as she yells, "You better pull your act together and stop ruining this family’s image or I'll find a way to make sure you're not part of this family, you got that?"

"Just leave me the fuck alone and get out of my business," you growl, before running the rest of the way up the stairs and into your room.

#

You fall asleep with your phone plastered against your face and the Twitter app open on the screen. You wake up to it vibrating on your forehead, and you drearily move it to your ear, pressing the 'answer call' button.

"Who the fuck is callin' me at this time in the mornin'?" you growl out, slurring your words in your still half-asleep state.

You hear a familiar laugh on the other end of the phone and you groan. "It's two in the afternoon, Meen," Porrim says to you, laughing as you let out anguished squeals down the phone.

You roll over, looking over at your bedside clock and concluding that Porrim is correct.

You sigh. "Fucking early morning flights," you mutter.

"How's home?"

"All I done so far is sleep and argue with my Mom, it's average."

You hear Porrim snigger on the other end, and you're thankful she doesn't bother asking what you argued about. Instead she decides to tell you about how annoying her younger sister and her girlfriend are, and how she already wants to get back to her own dorm. She doesn't talk for long, it's barely a couple of seconds before you hear a knock on your door, and you recognise it to be your Mother's.

"Oh, hold up dude, Mom's at the door. I'll call you back in a bit. Thanks for the literal wake up call."

You hang up on her then, dropping your phone beside you onto the bed and getting up to stagger over to the door.

You pull it open drearily. Your Mother looks at you, stood still in the same clothes as you were at 4 o'clock this morning, and you regret bothering to open the door. The look she gives you is scornful.

"Sup, Mom?" you ask, leaning your back against the door frame.

You watch her eyes snap up to meet yours and she gives you a dazzling smile. You are not fooled.

"I just wanted to come and give you a present," she tells you, shoving a gaudy purple bag in your direction. "I thought you could wear it for the thanksgiving meal."

You take the bag off her cautiously, opening it up and spotting a flash of bright red before you pull the dress out and take a good look at it. It's blindingly bright, almost the point of hurting your eyes as you look at it. A bodycon dress, finishing just above your knees and the neckline coming down low both at the front and at the back. You suppose it's a nice dress, but you still look at it with disdain knowing it's not something you would ever put on your body.

"I'm not gonna wear it, it's not my thing," you say bluntly, dropping it back into the bag and holding it out to her. "It's your style, you have it."

You know she must have spent a lot of money on it, but it's her money and not your problem.

Your Mother doesn't even look offended, just disappointed. "But it would suit you Meenah," she tells you. "You might be able to attract some…y’know, better, attention."

You recall what happened last night and you bite your tongue slightly. "I can get all the attention I want without wearin' that…" You pause before adding, "but thanks." You hate yourself a little bit for thanking her.

"Meenah," your Mother says, and you refuse to meet her eye. "Will you at least consider listening to what I say to you, for once? I only want what's best for you."

"No, you don't."

You feel her move and you flinch, nearly throwing yourself back into your room.

Instead of touching you she waits for a few seconds, staring at you and then saying, "I've invited the Ampora's around for thanksgiving. I thought maybe you and Cronus could try and bond again, maybe this time without him being injured."

Your eyes flick to hers, holding her gaze and trying to work out whether this is some sick joke. But no, instead all your find is an expectant gaze and a pout.

Two beats pass before you shove past her, shaking your head in disgust as you make your way to the stairs. She doesn't give two shits about your feelings, she just doesn't care. You always knew that, but every time you come back to visit from college you are faced with the truth more and more. On your way down you hear here ask where you're going and you yell that you're going to get something to eat, not that she gives a fuck about anything other than you getting a boyfriend.

She yells something back then, and your body tenses slightly in panic. You almost stop walking, but no, Meenah, get downstairs.

When you get into the kitchen, you check your phone to see that there are a few messages on the group chat you and your friends have. You take a look at it and see that Kankri has said

_I h9pe y9u're all having a g99d thanksgiving 6reak with y9ur families._

To which both Latula and Porrim have replied:

_h3ll y34h i 4m I am._

_I ho+pe the same fo+r you, Kankri._

Knowing that they all know about your Mother's antics, you type up a quick:

_this plaice is abshoulute bs n im fuckin angry_

You don't mention the fact you're also upset. Instead you send the message and wander to the freezer to collect whatever microwave meal you feel like eating for lunch. You pick one out as you hear your Mother enter the area behind you, and you feel your breathing hasten as soon as she begins to speak.

"Meenah, I just want you to be happy," she says. Her voice is patronising and you growl despite knowing you shouldn't argue back.

"No, Mom. You don't. You've finally given up on your idea of me takin' over your stupid business, so now you're tryna marry me into a different one or just tryna marry me into a rich and successful future 'cause you don't think I can make my own."

"No, Mee-"

"NO, MOM," you yell as you start stabbing holes in the packaging. "You spent my entire upbringing telling me that you were an independent woman and that I could be one too! And the second I decided I wanted to be a different woman to you, you decided I wasn't capable any more! GET A GRIP MOM, THAT'S NOT HOW THIS INDEPENDENT SHIT FLIES."

"MEENAH YOU DO NOT YELL AT ME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" You wince at the sound of her piercing voice, and fall silent. "Now, I’m not saying you can’t be independent, I just think you should find someone to spend your life wi-"

You can't hold in the rage. "NOT EVERYONE WANTS THAT AND ALSO YOU’RE AN IDIOT FOR THINKIN’ I WOULD ‘CAUSE YOUR HUSBAND, MY DAD, FUCKIN’ DIED AND I WATCHED YOU SPIRAL LIKE A FUCKIN’ WHIRLPOOL INTO INSANITY-"

She slaps you then, having spun you round to face you in the kitchen and lashed out at your face.

Your hand automatically jumps up to hold your cheek in your hand as she tells you, "You're lucky that's all I'm doing."

You turn away, tears stinging at your eyes as you shove the meal into the microwave, saying a weak, "back the fuck off then," and slamming the machine shut so hard it rattles in the unit.

#

Eight minutes later and you're scrolling through Craigslist. Your Mother is sat reading on the sofa while you sit at the breakfast bar, eating your meal out of the tray. You know the pair of you are in a silent battle of who will leave the kitchen first, and this is one fight you're not willing to let her win.

It's as you're absent-mindedly scrolling that you notice it, with the headline:

**_Mad at your family? Alone at Thanksgiving?_ **

And you were clicking on the ad before you even bothered to properly think about what it could be. Probably just a book on tips of how to survive Thanksgiving with your family.

It was only when you started reading it that you realised how wrong you were to assume that.

_I am a 22 year old 8artender in New York with a criminal record and no high school degree, and I am here to offer my 8rilliant services as your "fake date" for Thanksgiving. This can 8e 8ecause you feel lonely and want someone to talk to, 8ecause you want to impress your family, or 8ecause you want to piss them off. I don’t care, I can play all those parts._

_I am a8le to play any age 8etween 18 and 25 (pro8a8ly) and all I want in return for my services is the free meal, 8ut if your family can't cook I might decide I want a coffee as well._

_Things I am willing to do 8ut am not limited to doing for this cause:_

 

  * _Starting a fight with a family mem8er_
  * _Flirting with the other people at the party while you pretend not to notice_
  * _Eating all the food (this one WILL happen)_
  * _Getting way too drunk (will pro8a8ly also happen, unless it's a no drinking party in which case don't invite me to that one anyway)_
  * _Propose to you in front of everyone_
  * _Start controversial conversations_
  * _I don't know pro8a8ly anything you could think of_



 

_Things you should know 8efore you decide to hire me:_

 

  * _I'm female o I'm 5'5 (call me short I'll kill you)_
  * _I'm not a vegetarian 8ut I won't complain a8out vegetarian food_
  * _I'm not allergic to anything_
  * _I haven't killed a man 8ut I pro8a8ly would if you were cute and you really wanted me to_



 

_Cool. Hire me._

_• do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers_

You stare at the advert, glancing up at your Mother again every couple of seconds before looking back at the screen. You contemplate for longer than you think necessary, having known from the second the advert finished what you were going to do. You start drafting up the email.


	2. A Mansion in Rye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Vriska Serket has appeared.

**Meenah**

You read your message over for the fifth time since you sent it. Maybe you were too formal? Maybe you were too rude? Maybe it was all just a joke and the person behind it didn't really mean it?

You think you might be a little too invested in this possible scenario, but you open the email and read the message over again.

_hey_

_i saw to yoar post aboat thanksgivfin n im wonderfin whether it was a srs post oar not bc im super up for you comin round to mine n doin that_

_idk where aboats in new york yoare at but the partyll be in rye in the huge ass mansion my family owns if that convinces you anymoor lemme know if yoare srs aboat this shit cause damn would i pike to annoy my mom rn_

_thanks_   
_meenah_   
_(p.s im a gill too so that betta not be a problem)_

Okay, yeah, you decide it definitely wasn't too formal. Formalness was definitely not the issue. Maybe you were a little too informal!

Holy shit, okay Meenah, just close your emails and go back to doing your work. You have been struggling with an essay for your History of Photography course for a week now, and it's not been getting any easier as time passes. You're just starting to care less and less.

Half an hour of vigorous googling and essay typing later and you fall back onto the bed, unsatisfied with the 10 words you have successfully managed to get down. You grab at your phone, lifting it to your face and sitting up immediately when you see the email notification on your screen. In a rush you type in the email url wrong three times, before the website finally loads on your screen and you open up the message.

_Hey,_

_Mansion in Rye, eh???????? I sure can get down with that._

_Give me your num8er so we can talk details cause I don't check my emails._

_Vriska P.S._   
_Don't worry it's far from a pro8lem :::;)_

You find yourself staring at the email, wondering whether you should wait to reply since you have no idea when she'll end up seeing it, and you don't want to appear too desperate, it's not like you're doing this because you want the company, (though the company will also be appreciated, and you're totally big enough to admit that.)

Eventually you decide on just emailing back now, in case she stuck around to wait for your number. As it turns out, she did, and you get an text 5 minutes later.

_(14:25) From: Unknown Number  
The one and only Vriska has 8lessed your phone with her presence on the screen. You can thank me later once we've sorted all this out. _

You quickly save her number and reply back:

_(14:26) To: Vriska_   
_scuse me but youre the one gettin the real pleashore here you aint efin sean how great i am yet_

_(14:28) From: Vriska_   
_I can "sea" that you use fish puns, which is pretty lame if you "fink" a8out it_

_(14:31) To: Vriska_   
_says the one usin 8s to replaice bs you aint got no upper hand here when it comes to "8ein" lame_

_(14:31) To: Vriska_   
_anywave dont b a bitch aboat the fish puns you know theyre damn amazfin_

_(14:32) From: Vriska_   
_Excuuuuuuuuse me! Did you just insult my 8s???????? How dare. I am officially uninviting myself from your Thanksgiving meal in the fancy ass mansion just for that comment._

_(14:34) To: Vriska_   
_dont kid yourshellf you didnt get any otter offers n efin if you had you wouldnt have got a betta one_

_(14:35) From: Vriska_   
_I'll have you know I have plenty of offers in my in8ox right now. I could pick any of them I wanted instead of yours. I just felt sorry for your, "I want to annoy my Mom," plea._

_(14:35) To: Vriska_   
_go on pick anotter party to go to i dare you_

_(14:38) From: Vriska_   
_. . ._   
_(14:39) From: Vriska_   
_So…Are we sorting out when I'm coming over or what?_

_(14:39) To: Vriska_   
_so quick to change your mind_

_(14:41) From: Vriska_   
_Can't 8e leaving someone in their time of need now can I?_   
_(14:41) From: Vriska_   
_Someone needs me to help them annoy their parents, that's what I exist for!!!!!!!!_

_(14:42) To: Vriska_   
_waterever you say vris_   
_(14:42) To: Vriska_   
_ill pick ya up from the tube just before lunch that sound alright_

_(14:42) From: Vriska_   
_Vris, eh? Getting a little friendly already aren't we :::;D_   
_(14:45) From: Vriska_   
_That was a joke, just so you know…_

_(14:47) To: Vriska_   
_dude thats the second time youve winked i dont fink its me thats gettin friendly here_   
_(14:47) To: Vriska_   
_n ya need to answer the q ya idiot_

_(14:48) From: Vriska_   
_Oh, yeah, of course! Duh, I was getting to that!!!!!!!! It sounds like a good plan._

_(14:49) To: Vriska_   
_k ill sea you then 38;D_

_(14:51) From: Vriska_   
_Now look who's sending wink faces._   
_(14:53) From: Vriska_   
_Little shit._

You reply to that message a little later, having typed up another 6 words of your essay. You lean back, grabbing your phone and smirking at the screen before typing up your reply.

_(15:34) To: Vriska_   
_im 5'8_   
_(15:34) To: Vriska_   
_i might be a shit but youre the little one here 38;D_

You close the app then, dropping your phone on your bed as you get up to go get a drink. This should be fun.

#

You wake up on the morning of November 25th to messages from six of your friends, all greeting you a Happy Thanksgiving. You return the greetings, laughing to yourself about the ugly selfie Latula included with her greeting, and quickly taking an equally ugly one to send back to her. You then pause on the message from Vriska, grinning widely as you fully begin to recall what you're doing today.

_(10:04) From: Vriska_   
_I'm guessing we're still on for today? Meeting at the tu8e for 12?_   
_(10:15) From: Vriska_   
_What do I have to 8ring? Is there a dress code for this shit? Am I meant to 8e following the dress code? You're the fucking employer here tell me what to do._   
_(10:17) From: Vriska_   
_You’re a useless employer. If it wasn’t for all the free food I’m getting today I would totally quit._   
_(10:21) From: Vriska_   
_Happy Thanksgiving 8y the way._

You quickly send her details: 12 by the tube station, don't wear formal because the parties not until later, but the dress code is formal, follow the dress code mostly but add a twist to it because why the hell not, you're here to ruin my Mother's day. Also bring alcohol.

You consider taking back the alcohol comment but decide to just wish her a Happy Thanksgiving instead, smiley face and all.

#

**Vriska**

It's 12:06 and you're still on the subway. You texted Meenah to let her know that you would be late, but you won't be surprised if she's gone by the time you get there. Rich girls are never very good at waiting.

The overhead tells you it's your stop and you stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder and stepping off the subway.

You're not crazy familiar with this part of the city, but you make it to the exit, stepping out into the open street and looking around.

You spot a blonde girl straight in front of you, looking expectantly at the exit to the station. She's carrying what looks like a Burberry handbag and her hair is in loose curls around her head. She looks rich, pissed off, and she's very pretty, but you don't think that it's Meenah? Damn, you probably should've asked the girl for a reference picture of her face or something.

You look around the street again.

A fair skinned brunette wearing a checked shirt around her waist? No. A pretty girl with hair gradianted from pink to blue? No. A ginger girl carrying 4 books in her arms? Definitely no.

You sigh, almost resigning yourself to her having left and you having to catch the tube back home, when you spot her.

She's less than 5 metres away from you, and you don't know how you didn't notice her before. She looks up at you from her phone then, light hazel eyes widening slightly in recognition. She stands and begins walking towards you and all the way over you're staring at her. Hot damn. She's wearing skinny jeans and a black crop top with a red shirt on over the top, and the fuchsia dipped dyed ends of her braids are smacking lightly against her bare stomach and you're having a really hard time keeping your eyes off it.

She reaches you and smirks slightly, "Hey," you say, and then realise you should probably say something else and quickly add on, "Vriska Serket at your service, what can I do for you today?"

She watches you for a second, narrowing her eyes very slightly and you consider asking why she’s looking at you with such confusion when she finally says, "Meenah Peixes here and you can come with me to my Mother's Thanksgiving Party and make her life hell, how does that sound to you?" and gives you a smirk.

She looks hot when she smirks. Damn, she's hot. Who said she could be hot? No one. Rude. Not that you're complaining. Not really. It means you have something to look at for the rest of the night, but damn.

You grin back at her, giving your most dazzling smile. Gotta outshine her, that’s for sure.

"That sounds perfect."

#

She drives you to her house in her car, a fuchsia Volkswagen Thing that threatens to win the ugliest car award. You tell her so and she gives you this shit eating grin and says, “I know right! It’s perfect!” and you start to wonder what kind of company you’ve got yourself into.

It’s only when you begin to approach Meenah’s house that you realise how much of a mistake you’ve made.

You knew she was rich, and you’re pretty sure she knows you’re poor, and this is out of this world.

There are automatic gates leading into a circular yard where two other cars were already parked. The house itself seemed huge, it was made of three types of stone with decorative wooden panelling and was three stories high- you could see a huge bay window on the second floor, four large stone chimneys and, holy shit is that a pool in the back garden?!

You’re immediately starting to panic, and you feel Meenah looking at you from the drivers seat.

“You think it’s a bit much?” she asks, raising her eyebrow at you in an almost mocking way, but you can see she’s slightly concerned by your reaction.

Quickly you tell her it’s amazing, and then ask, “How do you even live here?” and you’re not sure what you even mean by that but she replies to you anyway.

“I don’t, I mostly live in the dorms at College nowadays.” You nod, and she adds, “Do you wanna go in or are we gonna sit out here all day?”

She gets out of the car, walking round to let you out as you haven’t attempted to move.

"Wait, wait, wait," you start, swallowing. "How am I playing this? Please don't tell me I have to impress your rich parents even to begin with 'cause I don't think I'm cut out for that shit."

Meenah laughs a little, opening the door for you. "You don’t have to worry about that. It's just my Mom, and you ain’t ever gonna impress her. Act as normal as possible and convince her we're datin’ to start with before we get to the juicy stuff.”

Okay. Convincing her Mother you're dating doesn't seem too challenging, or unpleasant.

You grin, jumping out of the car to join her. "What kind of juicy stuff are we talking here?"

Meenah gives you a little smirk. “Oh don’t you wish you knew?” she says, “You brought me booze by the way.”

You laugh, recalling the moment when you read that message and the look of indignant annoyance that had crossed your face. But, just because you're a lovely person, (and because you enjoy getting drunk with people,) you had gone and brought her alcohol anyway.

You gesture to your bag, slipping it off your shoulder and opening it up to show her the bottle of vodka inside. She gives you a look of pure admiration, breathing an awed sigh from her lips.

"Thank God, I thought I was gonna be stuck drinkin' white wine all night."

You scoff. "You telling me your Mom doesn't have a bottle of vodka in her cupboard?"

"Not one I could get my hands on without endin' up dead," is all she says in reply, her eyebrows twitching slightly.

She starts walking towards her house and turns to look at you, still standing by the car. "You ready?"

You stare at her for a second, before you snigger and say, "Yeah, course I am! Why, are you not?"

You give her a challenging look, and she gives you one back, grinning wildly before spinning on her heels and skipping further towards her front door.

You stare at her butt for several seconds as she walks away, before she yells at you to hurry up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on http://www.buzzfeed.com/ryanhatesthis/this-dude-looks-like-he-smells-like-a-tire-fire#.spJk11JBo


End file.
